PARIS — On a quiet little street at the foot of the Sacré-Coeur, in the Montmartre neighborhood of the French capital, a pretty store with an elegant dark-green front and windows lined with rock concert posters invites you in. Inside is an Ali Baba’s cave for music lovers, with walls full of vinyl records.
The vast space with subdued lighting and vintage parquet is lulled by notes of jazz.: Welcome to Balades Sonores. Established in 2012 in the nearby 9th arrondissement, this emblematic independent record shop has just expanded to the new location.
“For the past 10 years and despite COVID, our vinyl sales have been growing by 20% a year,” says Thomas Changeur, the shop’s owner, a tall man with rock singer looks. “Our clientele is loyal and passionate, even if buyers are volatile.”
Having established the business in 2012 with his wife, Esther Marti, a Barcelona-born designer, Changeur says online sales are increasing. “The love of LPs is not simply a matter of nostalgia. Our buyers use streaming like everyone else, myself included, to discover new things,” he says. “But listening to vinyl is ‘consuming’ less but better, just like buying local food or quality clothing.”
Concert trophies and souvenirs
Nathalie Sassier, a 39-year-old marketing manager in the insurance industry, plunged into the wonderful world of vinyl just 10 years ago, at a time when it had disappeared from the shelves of major retailers. For her birthday, this Normandy-born Parisian was given a turntable to listen to the two or three albums she owned and were “starting to gather dust.” Once the record player was installed in her living room, she began buying discs at the rock concerts she regularly attended.
“I see vinyl as more of a collector’s item than an everyday, consumer item.”
“An LP is both a concert trophy and a souvenir. I see them more as collector’s items than as everyday, consumer objects,” says Nathalie, who never misses Record Store Day (Disquaire Day, in French), an international event to support independent record stores, where special edition albums can be found.
“I regularly visit my favorite stores in Paris, such as Major Tom in the 12th arrondissement, and I order editions not available in France online. I don’t necessarily buy everything I listen to on vinyl, but I like the pleasure of discovering a version with specific content, a limited edition, a well-crafted sleeve and special attention to this medium. With the advent of portable music players and iTunes, I’ve completely abandoned CDs, on the other hand. I subscribe to a streaming platform for my daily listening.”
45% of physical sales
In 2022, revenues from recorded music (streaming platforms, CDs, vinyl, revenues generated by music in films, advertising, etc.) returned to their 2007 levels, according an annual study by the National Syndicate of Phonographic Publishing (SNEP). The market continues to rise for the sixth consecutive year, the vinyl craze continues unabated, despite a slight dip in the first half of 2023, “due to inflation and consumer spending decisions,” according to the SNEP.
Vinyl records now account for 45% of physical sales, compared with 1% 10 years ago, to the detriment of CDs, the sales of which continue to plummet. In 2022, 5.4 million vinyl records were sold in France (around three times more than in 2016), with the vast majority of buyers under 35 years old.
Vinyl has become the third-largest source of revenue in the recorded music market (12%), behind subscription-based streaming (54%) and CDs (14%), according to the SNEP. And the trend is worldwide. For the first time since 1987, more vinyl records than CDs were sold in the United States.
A whole ceremony
Alexandre Reza Haghdoust, a 33-year-old communication consultant, is part of a generation who is devoted to the cult of vinyl, without “acute collectoritis”, and who also has a streaming subscription. “I like the ceremonial aspect of listening to vinyl, like enjoying a cup of tea. Sitting or lying on my sofa and religiously listening to a record, getting up after 20 minutes to play the second side. I particularly appreciate the active dimension of listening,” says the video game fan, who lives in Lyon with his wife and son.
“I like the ceremonial aspect of listening to vinyl, like enjoying a cup of tea. Sitting or lying on my sofa and religiously listening to a record, getting up after 20 minutes to listen to the second side.”
Haghdoust discovered vinyl at the age of 17, thanks to his grandmother, who gave him a turntable for his birthday. “I was the only one of my friends to own one. I started buying records as soon as I had a bit of money. Then my record player was stolen, but my wife bought me another one. Now, I go to flea markets and garage sales to track down rarities, and I get them as gifts. For my 30th birthday, I received five garage rock gems from the 1960s. I was like a madman.”
Paris, the diggin’ capital
This craze has not escaped the attention of certain media and music players. After Radio France (since 2015) and Europe 1 (in 2019), RMC is capitalizing on the vinyl “madness.” On November 10, the Altice-owned radio station sold 1,500 albums — of all musical genres — from its collection of nearly 300,000 via an online auction system.
Denis Dantas, head of Paris Loves Vinyl, a biannual record sales convention held since 2016 in Paris (and in Lille) that attracts nearly 3,000 visitors, is delighted with vinyl’s new golden age and the multiplication of such events in France.
Paris the world’s second-largest vinyl capital, behind Tokyo, with around 100 record stores in operation.
“During our conventions, where eight DJs mix all day, we carefully select some 70 vendors who propose 100,000 vinyl records for sale, mainly old but also new,” says Dantas, a fan of soul music and jazz. A collector’s item starts at 50 or 60 euros. The rarest items, known in the trade as “holy grails,” can fetch up to several thousand euros.
Dantas says France’s geographical position at the center of Europe, and its status as a former colonial power (with a historic presence in the Maghreb and Africa) make Paris the world’s second-largest vinyl capital, behind Tokyo, with around 100 record stores in operation.
“We’ve inherited a range of music from all over the world, including European and American jazz, international pop and folk, Latin and Brazilian music, traditional African music, Afro-funk and disco,” he says, “Since the 1960s, communities have brought part of their musical culture back to France. Paris has become a major place in the diggin’ world, attracting diggers from all over the world.”
The taste for beautiful objects
Bob (Eric) Vincent, a rock manager (H-Burns, La Maison Tellier, Mickey 3 D, Ysé) for some 30 years, first became interested in music in the late 1970s. He also loves vinyl records, even though he by no means defines himself as a compulsive collector.
“With vinyl, I enjoy owning the object, looking at it, admiring its graphics, reading the liner notes, almost as much as listening to it,” he says, citing his enthusiasm for the covers of “Harvest” (Neil Young), “London Calling” (The Clash) or “The River” (Bruce Springsteen), artists who are part of his pantheon. “I regret a little that I didn’t pass this bug for iconic objects onto my three children, but the most important thing is that they listen to good music,” he says.
“I love the carnal relationship with the object of vinyl. When I unearth a rarity, I rediscover the adolescent emotion of first times, of loves at first sight.”
Jeff de Clair (his artist’s name), 51, a local civil servant in central France, is also a member of the cult of vinyl. DJ, producer and musician in his spare time, this tall, easy-going man doesn’t play the ayatollah and says he is “multi-support”. “I like the carnal relationship with the object of vinyl. When I unearth a rarity, I rediscover the adolescent emotion of first times, of loves at first sight. I’ll never spend 80 euros on a single piece, but I can break my piggy bank for, say, unreleased versions of Prince, my idol,” he says.
At home, he has installed a turntable in his basement, where he mixes late into the night and stores thousands of records. But also in his living room — and in his kitchen. “My 19-year-old daughter also has one, so we lend each other records and make each other discover new tracks. It’s a way of getting together and connecting between generations,” he adds.
An object of transmission
Just outside Biarritz, 47-year-old Alexis Debavelaere is actively preparing for his next amateur DJ gig at Open Vinyle, a weekly event where participants play their favorite discs in a festive, “non-competitive” atmosphere. It was during a trip to Brazil some 15 years ago that this project manager fell in love with Carioca music, which he discovered wandering through vinyl stores.
“Since my return from Brazil, I’ve been buying fewer records but concentrating on quality, as opposed to flow music,” says the man who calls himself Alexis Distraction on his Instagram account. “When I play my records at parties, I systematically display the jacket, which breaks the ice with attendees because it allows them to start a dialogue about the history of the object, the musicians or the producers. It’s a great way to surrender to the spell of music.” Vinyl is also an object of transmission.
